Brother, We're Close to The Bottom of The River
by bornpuppetdiedcrying
Summary: Rick ends up the last of his family left alive. Not wanting to live all alone, he kills himself and finds himself back in his hospital bed when his life first went to Hell. Once he get's proof this is actually real, he's not letting anything stop him from saving his family. -SLASH-I DON'T OWN TWD-
1. Preface

Rating: M

Trigger warning: Extensive description of gore and death, the gays, cursing, possible non-con stuff (not necessarily rape but non-consensual touching)

Summary: Rick ends up the last of his family left alive. Not wanting to live all alone, he kills himself and finds himself back in his hospital bed when his life first went to Hell. Once he get's proof this is actually real, he's not letting anything stop him from saving his family.

Preface

"Baby girl- baby girl I'm so sorry" Rick clutched Judith,his six year old daughter, to his chest. They were trapped - Walkers were closing in in them from all sides. The glass was creaking under the weight of the undead, the groans were a dreadfully familiar lullaby. "I wished it wouldn't have come to this," The putrid stench wafted through the truck, like third hand smoke, it clung to everything left living or dead. No amount of washing would remove the smell. "I thought we were safe. We had food, shelter, family… I didn't expect all of that to have an expiration date."

"Daddy?" Judith whimpered, her small hands clung to Rick's collar "Whas wrong?" Having grown up without a civilized society and the casual walker nipping at her ankles, Judith didn't fully comprehend the severity of the situation she and her Daddy were in.

Daryl wasn't going to leap out of the woods and start taking down walkers with arrows and blades. He couldn't - even if he wanted to. The knife to the back of the skull prevented any chance of motor function past death.

Water clung to Rick's lashes, adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He had to do this for the both of them. His only wish was that he could have granted the same courtesy to Carl… It was with trembling hands that Rick lifted his gun. His breath caught in his throat.

"Da?"

"I'm so so sorry Baby girl- my lil' asskicker..." Rick took a deep breath and leveled the muscle of his pistol with Judith's temple, "I love you baby girl. Can you ever forgive me?"

Some semblance of understanding crossed Judith's face. "I'd never hate you Daddy! I love you!"

Tears slipped down Rick's face as he cocked the safety back. "I love you too Judy. Please tell Carl I wish I could see him..." He steeled his nerve and took a deep, shaky breath. Knowing this would be one of her last moments living in this hell, Rick pulled Judy and planted one last kiss onto her forehead. "I love you-" The trigger clicked.

* * *

Blood and brain matter littered the passenger side window. Sharp intakes of breath accompanied the ringing in his ears and the raspy groans that surrounded them.

"I'm so sorry!" Rick wailed, and clutched Judith's limp body to his person, "Baby girl! Baby girl - NoOO!" His cries fell on hungry ears. The dead outside began to pound more severely onto the windows to gain access to the fresh meat inside the truck. RIck ignored the walkers outside and fell into a new wave of grief.

He turned his pistol towards himself and watched how the warm metal glinted in the muted light. "See you soon Shane." Rick opened his mouth, unhinged his mouth enough to fit the beginning of his muzzle into his mouth. He took a slow breath through his nose, the ache in his jaw was arbitrary, but Rick relished this last bit of humanity left within him.

Rick closed his eyes and heard the click of the safety. He didn't want to hold this out much longer - he had a special place in hell waiting for him. He sent one last withering glare to the monsters shambling outside. 'Eat shit'

The trigger snapped and all senses were lost.


	2. Chapter 1

Brother, We're close to the bottom of the river - 1

Re Submerging oneself

A sudden wave of senses flooded Rick's system. He had a hard time breathing and thus grappled his hands up toward his face. He quickly tore the tubes out of his nose - his eyes were burning - it was blinding.

"This can't be the after life" Rick sat up with a groan. "I can't be dead and have an I.V. in me, right?" Rick took in his surroundings: barren white walls, a lone dresser pressed against the wall with a window, different monitors that weren't even turned on by his bed and an empty I.V. drip stuck into his wrist. What had later caught his attention was a bouquet of dried up flowers that crinkled to the touch.

"What the..." His left shoulder throbbed - fire was gracing his senses dutifully, "This can't be right..." Shaking hands did their best to remove the I.V. from his flesh. He was already feeling like Hell, why would he add to his suffering?

With I.V. and wires hanging limply toward the floor, Rick shuffled his legs to the side and tried to climb out of bed. He fell with the grace of a two year old. "Way to go Grimes, you've killed how many people and you can't even stand up on your own - shit - I should not be talking to myself right now."

Rick did his best to crawl over to a lone standing chair and use that to assist him to his feet. It took self-muffled grunts and groans, and a good twenty minutes, but Rick got to his feet and shuffled over what would hopefully be a bathroom, not a closet.

While rick was not entirely sure where he was, he had to admit that he was pretty impressed. The stench of decay was very subtle compared to many a places he resided in the past - including the prison and Alexandria. They might have been _safe_ but they weren't exactly the most hygienic. While Alexandria had running water and soap and the people liked to pretend life was still normal, it was always when the illusion was about to solidify that you would catch a whiff of death tagging along with the breeze, or groans of exertion. Not from sex or running, but shuffling and clawing toward the smell of not-dead-yet.

His mirrored image was a jolt to his system. He looked so much younger than he did the last time he looked in a mirror. Granted that was a long time ago. Gone was his gray-patched beard and dewy curls hanging by his ears and base of his neck.

"What the... " Rick reached out and touched the reflective glass. He expected it to react like water and ripple to distort the unfamiliar sight. A five o'clock shadow graced his features and his hair was neatly cut. Curls loose against his skull, "I..." the mirror remained stagnant. It looked as if only a hard bash would make his image shift. "I look twenty years younger..." Rick ran his hands against his scruff and reveled in the simplicity and mondain.

After he turned on the sink, he cupped his hands and took his first drink of water since waking up. As soon as the water caressed his lips, an animalistic hunger enraptured him and he dunked his head into the sink to gain further access to the falling water.

"God!" Rick moaned, belly full of water and a dull pounding in his temple. He braced himself against the porcelain with shaky arms. He had no idea how long he was out, but his body was aching from the simple actions he had just done.

Rick shuffled back into the main room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What the Hell am I going to do..? How the in all Hell am I not dead?" He ran his fingers over his hair. Strangely enough, it was only because of the apocalypse that Rick was truly able to understand himself and his needs. He knew he couldn't go out guns blazing with his poor physical condition and his lack of guns helped to deter that approach.

Rick tried his best to not agitate his shoulder as he laid his weary body down. "Maybe I can find the others after I get some more rest..." Rick paused after that thought passed his mind. Everyone was dead. From one way or another, his family was gone.

His mind flashed back to his last moments with his daughter. "Oh God! Judith!" Rick covered his mouth with his quivering hands and fought to keep tears from falling. "How could I do that to my baby girl? I'm seriously all alone now!" A gross sob ripped from Rick's vocal chords as his throat tightened in remorse. The-last-Grimes-standing curled up onto his side and fell asleep, hoping this was all a delusion.

Deep down he knew it wasn't.

* * *

An unknown amount of time passed before Rick woke once more. His body still felt weary but more well rested compared to when he first woke up.

"God damn..." he pushed himself off the bed and hobbled into the bathroom. Rick was forever grateful for the facility having running water. He felt it was time to get moving - figure out what was going on where he was. He walked into the main room and looked through the lone dresser of room. He thankfully found a clean pair of pants and a T-shirt.

Rick paused for moment in shock at how _white_ the shirt was. He was so unused to seeing such a stark white - nothing had been this clean and in his possession in years.

"How much bleach did these people hoard in the beginning?" After he shrugged off his untied, sweat-drench hospital gown and tugged on the T-shirt. Rick rolled his shoulders and let out a soft groan. He sat on the edge of the bad and slipped the shockingly clean pair of jeans over the baggy boxers he had found with the other clothes. "I wonder if anybody came and checked on me while I was out..." Shoeless and ready to move, Rick limped over to the door and pushed it open. A single gurney was pushed up against the doorway of his room. The hallway lights were flickering and medical supplies were littered across the floor. "What the-" the ramshackled hallway was a shock compared to the clenly state of his room. "Hell?" the linoleum floor burned his feet with icy heat and trudged down the hall in hopes of finding another live human.

Rick found the main receptionist's desk and began to scavenge for anything he could use to protect himself or tell him where he was. It was fairly difficult with his aching body, but Rick found a large Coach purse left behind by a previous body and began piling whatever he could into the designer bag: staples (and stapler), matches, sticky notes, pens, a Swiss army knife (went into his jean pocket) and other random objects were collected.

It was after he was semi-content with his scavenging of the desk that he really _looked_ at the documents left behind. He picked up a file and instantly locked his jaw at what he read.

"' _Harrison Memorial Hospital' Kings County, Georgia..."_ Rick felt a sudden burst of adrenaline and unintentionally crumpled the edges of the document with his hands. "How the hell did I end up back in Georgia?" A slight hysteria tinged Rick's voice, "I was so far up North I don't even know exactly where we were… I mean - Alexandria, but I never actually had a definite location..."

The was a nagging feeling digging into his gut. This was all too familiar - all to reminiscent of his first moments awake after his months long coma… Rick left the south wing recovery floor and began his search for answers. Bullet holes and blood adorned the walls and all breath escaped him all his eyes landed on the now-internally-iconic double doors chained with ' _Don't Open, Dead Inside'_ scrawled on them.

Rick _knew_ there were walkers inside. He could tell by the lazy knocking against the door and groans of hunger wafting from inside. Before he actually reached the doors, Rick stopped. His mind racing a mile a minute and his survival instincts were starting to kick in. he had no idea how the Hell he got back to him hometown, how he ended up in that damn hospital room, how he looked _so_ much younger with barely any grey hairs sticking out against his natural brown.

He had no idea what was going on, but he knew not to move closer. He smelled to clean - to alive - which reminded Rick why he and his family never owned anything too clean once this all began. You smell to clean and you're just asking for walkers to take a taste. Instead Rick decided to leave this God forsaken place. If his fuzzy memory served him well, the stairwell would be free of walkers and safe to go down.

"C'mon Grimes. Man the fuck up." He hefted the strap of his bag onto his not-as-badly-hurt shoulder and descended the stairs with his new army knife at the ready to strike anything or anyone who approached him. At the moment there was a theory meekly standing at the back of his mind, ready for rejection, but he couldn't toss it out a third story window without actual proof to prove or deny it.

Thankfully Rick was able to exit the hospital without an encounter with any 'live' walkers. But his luck ran out all too soon. Not in the oh-God-walkers type of way, but the Holly-Shit-I-can't-breathe-it-smells-like-death way instead. Not only did it smell like death, but there were many a decomposing bodies wrapped in no-longer white sheets, that were now gaining a gray, damp look to them as they soaked up the bodily fluids the corpses excited and petrified in the hot Georgian sun.

To try and dilute the smell a tad, Rick lifted the hem of his collar over his nose and wiped his watering eyes. Despite the fact that he was constantly surrounded by the noxic stench of the undead, the smell remained unpleasant and just as jarring as the first time he smelt death.

He had just recently graduated from the academy, both Shane and he did, and it was one of his first on duty calls. A neighbor called in distress over the fact that they hadden't seen their neighbor leave her house in a week and she usually held a very rigid schedule. The Neighbor was a stay at home parent and thus saw the day-to-day outings of their neighbor across the street. Lauren - Luara - something like that lived on her own, had a lot of money and owned exotic pets. By the time Rick got there with his supporting officers you could smell decay and feces before you even entered the house.

His first time seeing a dead body not on T.V. was a woman in torn sleeping attire and her stomach ripped open by a hungry komodo dragon and python. Her body was in poor condition having been feasted upon more than once and her python trying to swallow her lower body. Actually able to eat her left foot, but a myriad of puncture wounds trailed up her legs.

Rick fought the bile rising in his throat and tried his best to get away from the corpses within a reasonable timeframe. He took a minute to climb the gradual incline. But when he was on fairly level ground he knew where he had to go.

Home.


	3. Chapter 2

Fallacy of the Mind

It was so odd walking down the once familiar streets of his hometown without the graffiti left by Morgan after Duane's death and his mental break. But he knew he needed evidence of this being real or a dream. He couldn't let this sit and drive him insane by not knowing. Rick hiked the Coach bag higher on his shoulder and continued his trek to his once home.

He was thankful for the weather deciding not to be over one-hundred degrees while he had to walk on scalding blacktop with bare feet- and for the fact that he found that utility knife. It came in all too handy picking off some disembodied walkers that were just waiting for a perfectly timed ankle to be within their mouth's reach.

"Ok Grimes, you need to see if Morgan and Duane are at the Johnson's' house..." Rick continued walking until he saw his old neighborhood. "You can do this." Rick tried to remain as quiet as possible, but it was fairly difficult with the subtle clinking in his bag. He just knew, that if this was really happening. If what he thought was happening actually was - he had some shit to take care of.

He saw the Johnson's' windows covered with towels and old sheets, blocking out anything that was going on inside. As he neared the walkway up to the front door, Rick set his bag down by the mailbox and flipped his knife open. If he was wrong, and there were walkers in there… Well - he'd be fine but the Johnson's would need to do some heavy cleaning.

"Knock knock" Rick rapped his knuckles against the front door, waiting to hear shuffling movement and either voices or groans. After a moment of silence, Rick tried the door handle and found it to be locked. "Is anyone in there?" He tried knocking once more. A beat passed before he could hear floorboards creak under (hopefully) a person's weight.

"Who's there?" A voice came from the other side of the door. They were straight to the point.

"You don't know me, But I'm Rick Grimes. I - I just woke up in Harrison County hospital. I think I was in a coma cause the last thing I remember is getting shot."

"How the Hell did you get shot?"

"I am - I was a sheriff here. I'm looking for my wife and kid." That wasn't necessarily true at the moment. Instead Rick's mind was reeling as he recognized the voice that came from inside the house. It was Morgan - his friend and someone who became a part of his family after he properly mourned Duane and his wife.

The was a brief silence before Morgan spoke again.

"So why did you stop here? If you just woke up from a coma, how did you know this place wasn't empty?"

Rick's voice caught - he didn't fully think this through. His first thought after waking up was to see if he was right - if he really was in the past. Hearing Morgan interrogate him from his neighbor's house was proof. Morgan had told him that he and Duane were originally from Kentucky. Thankfully, Rick has had many years learning to improvise and spun up a story on the spot.

"I already said I was a cop before all this happened didn't I? This place had minute signs of being lived in, and I didn't think my neighbors nor my wife and child would be in here, but I need all the help I can get..."

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Rick Grimes. My house is just across the way, I can go and look from my badge if you want proof."

Rick could practically hear the gears turn in Morgan's mind. A minute passed before Rick heard a soft, young voice.

"Papa?" It was undoubtedly Duane, "W'as goin' on?"

"Nothin' Duane, go back to bed."

"Is there s'mone at the door?"

"Yes. Let your pa take care of this ok?"

"They're not dead are they?"

"... No. And that's what has me worried..."

"Excuse me?" Rick rapped softly against the door to gain Morgan's attention once more, "Would you like to see my badge?"

"Yeah." Morgan's voice lost the softness that was directed towards his son. "I'm not letting you see me or my son before you give me some proof to believe anything you're saying."

"Wise choice" Rick complemented. Even now he could see pieces of the survivor he once knew. "I'm going to find my badge and pick up stuff from my house."

"Did you stop here before you looked at your own house?" Morgan's voice held evident confusion.

"No," Rick explained how he searched his house, and upon finding none of his family, decided it would be best to find some other living human being before deciding what to do.

"You go and get that badge now ya hear? Otherwise I'm not letting in this house."

"Alright then." Rick nodded and began to walk away from the doorway with his arms held high in a non threatening manner. What he didn't see was a walker slowly skulking up behind him.

It's teeth were bare with no lips to protect the exposed bone and half it's scalp was drooping from its head. It let out a moan before tripping over a rogue tire left in the street.

Rick turned around at the sound of the walker hitting the ground and instantly pulled out his Swiss Army Knife. He stalked forward and hauled the once-man onto his knees and stabbed him in the forehead.

"Bastard" Rick breathed, and continued his trek across the street to his house. He decided that while he was searching for his badge - God knows where Lori put it - he would pack as much as he could for everyone at the quarry.

He pulled the screen door open and walked inside. His first go around, he didn't do a thorough search of his home, he was more worried about Lori and Carl.

"God… What am I going to do about Lori?" He knew Lori cheated on him with Shane, though looking back he's not really sure who started the affair. He could see now that Lori was not likely to adapt to living on the road and try to keep things as 'normal' as possible like she did last time. "You'now what? I'm not gonna let some woman bring me down and tear Shane apart again.

Rick could barely recognize his house - compared to his life before his 'redo' or whatever the fuck this was, He felt so unsafe and un-homely. The traditional home-style made Rick uncomfortable with the lack of protection and all openings for attack from biters and humans alike.

Rick pulled out his and Lori's old suitcases from the closet and started filling them with their clothes and Carl's. The suitcases were fairly large and Rick decoded to rid the bathroom for toiletries: toilet paper, tampons, pads, soap, towels, toothpaste, and deodorant. He knew that he wanted to raid a CVS or RITE-AID for more toiletries.

He can vividly recall all the pain and bloodshed the women had to go through without any help the first time around. He didn't want them to go through all that again.

"Damn it Lori! Where did you put my badge?" Rick shuffled through her bedside table drawers and stopped as he noticed a manila folder pressed up against the bottom of the drawer. He pulled the folder out sat on the edge of the bed and began to flip through the papers. It was soon after Rick's throat closed up as he read the second page's heading. "Petition for Divorce?" Rick stared blankly at the paper. "Lori wanted to file for a divorce?" He read the filled out information and unintentionally clenched his teeth as he saw Lori's signature and the date she signed.

Her side of the divorce papers were filled out before he even got shot apparently, and she had _never told him_. Rick shuffled through the other papers until he found a blank form for him to fill out. He found a spare pen left in Lori's drawer and used that to fill out his end of the divorce. While he bullshited the date, the sentimate behind his signature was true. He no longer wanted to be in any form of intimate relationship with Lori.

"I hope you're happy Lori." Rick pocketed the papers and folder in his Coach bag. That way they would be right with him when he sees her next. All Rick could think of at the moment was what he was going to do first when he got to the quarry.

Let Lori go, let her be with Shane or whoever the fuck she wanted to be with, and _not let her dictate his son's life._


End file.
